


this love will never be convenient.

by milominderbinder



Series: maia's shameless fic a day in the month of may [30]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-30
Updated: 2014-05-30
Packaged: 2018-01-27 19:58:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1720739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milominderbinder/pseuds/milominderbinder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey and Ian get each other's names inked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	this love will never be convenient.

It’s one of Mickey’s cousins who does it.

The same guy who’d done Mickey’s knuckles, when he was fourteen, and one of the surprisingly large number of Milkoviches who had turned out to not really care about the gay thing, like, at all.  And much like with Mickey’s knuckles, the event is really, spectacularly unplanned.

They’ve just gone over to Johnny’s shitty apartment because in addition to being the family tattoo artist he’s also the family weed dealer, and Mickey and Ian feel like getting high.  When they get there, he’s just finishing up with tattooing an actual non-family paying customer - if a very illegal one, since he’s in his filthy kitchen, not even wearing gloves.  He nods hello to Ian and Mickey as they wander in without knocking.

“With you in a sec, guys,” he calls over.  Mickey heads over to the fridge and grabs a beer, which Ian immediately snags out of his hands and claims as his own.  Mickey doesn’t even care; he’d only wanted something to do with his hands, and lights up a cigarette instead.

While they wait, he watches Johnny finishing up the guy’s tattoo, listens to the familiar buzz of the needle, feels Ian pressed up against his side.

And he has a sudden, ridiculous idea.

Thing is, he _knows_ it’s ridiculous.  How many times has he made fun of his brothers for having some random chick’s name inked on them?  Too many to count, and they’ve always regretted it, and he’d thought he was smarter than them.

But apparently not.  Because Ian’s hardly someone _random,_ but nothing’s ever for sure, and Mickey still knows things could go wrong, things which will make him regret this.

He just - well.  He just doesn’t _give_ a shit.

It’s been three years, now, since him and Ian have been together for real.  Three years since he came out to his dad, a whole room full of his relatives.  Three years since Ian crashed, got diagnosed - less than three years since they finally managed to get Ian medicated and in therapy and stable.  And there’s been other shit since then, an endless parade of the troubles that come along with living in their neighborhood as well as some extra issues just for them.  And they fight a lot, but they fuck even more.  And they’ve gotten through all of it, _together,_ which is more than Mickey ever thought he’d have with anyone.  Ian’s the most solid, stable thing in Mickey’s life, and Mickey knows that no matter what, that’s not gonna change.  But sometimes - sometimes it doesn’t seem like Ian really believes that.  Like he’s maybe, just sometimes, waiting for Mickey to leave again, thinking that another shoe’s gonna drop.  And nothing Mickey ever says seems to be able to get rid of those fears.  Because Mickey’s bad with words.  He’s bad with words, but actions - _actions_ he can do.

So when Johnny finishes up with his customer and heads over to them, Mickey decides he’s gonna leave this place with more than just a couple of joints.

\--

He gets it pretty big, on the top of his arm, just underneath the curve of his shoulder.  Ian watches the whole time, his hand resting on Mickey’s other arm, a dopey grin on his face like he can’t even believe what’s happening.  Like he can’t even believe that he’s watching his own name slowly take form on Mickey’s skin, can’t believe that _Ian_ is going to be there forever. 

It takes about an hour, and it hurts, but nowhere as much as his knuckles had because it’s not right on the bone, so it’s not that bad.  Half the time the sensation is nothing more than an annoying itchy buzz on his skin, and he chats to Ian and Johnny, about how Ian’s classes are going and if Johnny’s dating anyone new and what Independance day barbecue they should go to.  Before it’s really a big deal, it’s over, and Johnny’s sticking a bandage over the top of the shining ink.

“Okay, that’s done, dude,” Johnny says, lighting up a cigarette.  “You know the deal for aftercare and shit, yeah?”

“Yeah,” says Mickey, though when he got his knuckles done he’d pretty much done nothing to help them heal, and they’d stayed raw and bleeding for more than a week, and it was a miracle they hadn’t gotten infected.  But that was years ago, and now he’s older and wiser, all that shit.  “Thanks, man.”

Johnny just nods amicably, throwing away the used needle with one hand while he puffs on his cigarette.  Mickey starts to get up, to find the cash in his jacket and get out of there, but he’s cut off when Ian suddenly drops down onto the couch next to him and picks up a fresh needle from the stack on the table.

“Okay, now me,” Ian says, grinning.  

“Shit,” says Mickey.  He hadn’t quite thought about this.  “Ian, you don’t - this wasn’t for you - I mean, it was _for_ you, but it was for me, y’know?  I’m not, like, expecting you to get mine done, I just wanna have your name on me, man.”

Ian just rolls his eyes and pulls up his shirt.

“I want mine on the front of my hip,” he says to Johnny, who’s just watching with a mild kind of amusement, clearly not invested in the outcome.  “And not so big.”

When Mickey pictures it, his own name, resting small and dark in the shallow of Ian’s hip, his breath catches in his throat.  That’s - that’s amazing, too amazing to picture, but it also seems _wrong._ Sure, Ian already has one dumb as fuck tattoo, but if he’s gonna get another one, it shouldn’t be Mickey’s _name._ Mickey knows Ian’s it for him, forever, and he hopes it’ll be the same for Ian too, but there’s no guarantee.  He’s not good enough for Ian - he knows that, and he doesn’t want the proof of it scarring Ian’s skin forever.  He snags Ian around the arm, forces their eyes to meet.

“You -” he says, and his voice comes out cracked.  “You so don’t fuckin’ have to -”

“I want to,” Ian cuts him off, shifting to press a long kiss to Mickey’s lips.  “You’re not the only one who gets to make dumb impulse decisions, y’know.”

\--

Later, when they're lying in bed with the sheets kicked off because it’s a hot, sticky night, Mickey ghosts his fingers over Ian’s tattoo.  He stays a fraction away from actually touching it, because the thing is red and raw and angry still, just like his own.  But it doesn’t matter - he doesn’t need to be touching it to _feel_ it.

Ian’s fast asleep already, sprawled out on his back, totally naked, his mouth hanging open and drooling.  And his skin isn't perfect or unblemished, it's covered in freckles and scars and his dumb eagle tattoo - and now his dumb _Mickey_ tattoo, as well.  His whole body tells a story, and it's gonna keep on changing.  Maybe he'll accumulate more tattoos along the way, probably more scars, perhaps a piercing or two, shit like that.

Mickey thinks that, no matter what ever happens, he'll be happy to be a part of Ian's story.

**Author's Note:**

> for the fic a day in may, and meh i always wanted to write a fic where they get name tattoos but i feel like this didn't sum up all the emotions i have on it... i'm posting it anyway, but may edit this later, idk
> 
> find me on tumblr: [mickeymilk](http://mickeymilk.tumblr.com)


End file.
